


An Unexpected Holiday

by arrow_through_my_writers_block



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, CEO, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Holiday Vacation, Inspired by - The Holiday, Inspired by a Movie, Politics, Romance, Romantic Comedy, The Holiday, bodyguards, dyla, olicity - Freeform, some drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_through_my_writers_block/pseuds/arrow_through_my_writers_block
Summary: Felicity Smoak and Lyla Michaels are both lost in their jobs and their places in life. Both are in desperate need of a holiday, and what better time to escape than Christmas-time? When they find one another on a home exchange website and agree to switch houses, they assume all they'll be getting is a getaway in a stranger's house for a couple weeks. They never bargained to find love.Loosely based on the Christmas rom-com, The Holiday!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose it was only a matter of time before one of my favorite Christmas films gave me Olicity inspiration. But I never expected it to also give me Dyla feels, too. So here's my attempt at an Olicity/Dyla "The Holiday" AU. I hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> -cover by the AMAZING @OhhMyyDarla

* * *

 

“Just be honest with me, Ray!”

The silence that has overtaken him infuriates Felicity. He’s never quiet.  _ Ever. _ He’s typically more talkative than she is, but now he’s absolutely silent. His eyes are downcast in feigned shame and his lips have morphed into a sad pout. He’s a wounded puppy who got caught stealing his human’s favorite pair of shoes to use as his personal chew toys.

“Ray, just tell me.”

“Alright!” he exclaims, wounded demeanor quickly shifting into exasperation. “Fine… I stole the prototype.”

Hearing the truth she’s already been so certain of doesn’t make her feel any better. “That wasn’t yours to take, Ray.” Her tone is laced with venomous disappointment. “Your hands are stained with the hopes and dreams and foiled change of those who could have benefited from the plans I had for that prototype.”

“That’s not what I’m most worried about.”

“What’s more important or worrisome than that?” Felicity spits out, anger escalating.

Ray’s eyes widen for a few seconds before he frowns. “Our relationship, Felicity.”

She buffs out a sarcastic laugh and continues packing up Ray’s clothing. “Our relationship became past tense the moment you chose your own success and ego over mine… your reputation over the betterment of society.”

“You have such a high opinion of yourself, Felicity. But don’t pretend my momentary lapse in good judgment is the cause of this relationship’s deterioration.”

Felicity tosses one of his sneakers into the suitcase violently. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You built a lab in the house. You and Curtis work nonstop and you’re always checking your phone and jotting down new ideas.”

Felicity throws her hands up. “It is my job!”

Ray reaches out but Felicity takes a step back. Not in fear. Just… sadness. Anger. She’s invested years into their relationship and now it feels as though she’s failed somehow. Failed to make her priorities clear. Failed to maintain a balance. Failed to see the same issues so apparent in Ray.

“But you have to separate the facets of your life, Felicity.”

Her eyes narrow at his words. “Is that why you did it?” She can’t help but feel the tears burning behind her eyes. The tears that never break through and fall.  _ Ever. _ She fights the quiver that pulls at her lips and the wavering confidence in her tone. Everything is cascading into overwhelming hurt - wounds that have just given themselves permission to ache despite their discreet festering over time.  _ This has been a long time coming,  _ she tells herself.  _ I should have let it happen sooner… before he stole my work.  _ “Is this whole thing the reason you feel so justified?”

“I’m not justifying what I’ve done. But your prototypes were exactly what my company needed to make a comeback.”

Felicity is done. Absolutely done. She rounds the bed, pushes him backwards out the bedroom door and continues to the stairs, never looking him in the eye. Ray grasps the banister and plants his feet. She fights against him to no avail. He is cemented in place. “Get out of my house!” she hisses.

“No need to throw me down the stairs, Felicity,” Ray says in fear. “I’ll leave.”

“Good!”

She watches as Ray begins his descent down the stairs, then he stops three steps from the bottom and turns. If it weren’t for how infuriated she feels or the knowledge that he’s a thief, Felicity might imagine him as the stereotype for cartoon fairy tale princes everywhere: at the bottom of a tower looking up and onward in hopeful anticipation. There’s a small part of Felicity that longs for an apology… for something resembling remorse from the man she’s spent years of her life with. Instead, he grins slightly and asks, “What about my stuff?”

Felicity groans and points in the direction of the front door. “I will  _ send  _ you your things!” Then she whirls around and waits for the door to close, signaling the end of this lengthy stage of her life. Then she lets out a small scream.

It is anger and betrayal and sadness, all rolled into one burst of vocalized sound. It echoes off the walls, through the large house until she hears Curtis’ clumsy gait thundering out of the lab downstairs and up the stairs.

“Did that  _ trash _ hurt you?” Curtis explodes, looking around with fists raised. “I’ll kill him.”

Felicity chuckles. “No.”

“The why the hell would you scream like that?”

She shrugs. “I needed to.”

Curtis shakes his head. “No, what you need is a vacation.”

“I can’t leave right now, Curtis.”

“Why not?” he asks, frustration mixing with his concern. “I can handle things while you're gone. You  _ need  _ a break.”

“I have no idea where to go.”

Curtis smiles widely. “Oh, girl. I have the perfect thing for you!”

 

\---

 

Lyla sits beside the hospital bed, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her jaw is set and her breathing is as calm as she can get it - even with a slight hold between exhales. Rene’s breathing is less even as the machines beep and force his lungs to function through their stress. Oliver paces back and forth behind Lyla’s chair, steps tapping in even mounts along the floor, almost in sync with the medical equipment chiming. 

“You’ll wear a path into the linoleum doing that, boss,” she says, voice flat and eyes never leaving the rise and fall of Rene’s chest.

“It keeps me from doing things I’ll regret.”

“Like fire me?”

A weighty silence fills the room. It keeps the hospital noises at bay. Then Oliver clears his throat and murmurs, “I’d never fire you, Lyla.”

She stands from the chair and faces Oliver. His face is tired - haggard - and his short hair tousled from the sleep she woke him from. The prim and proper, well put together mayor of Star City is not the one treading a repetitive path in the tiny room in Star City General. It is the worried friend. The fatherly mentor. The good man beneath the broody politician.

“Perhaps you should, though.”

Their eyes meet and the pain in Oliver’s gaze jumps out with horrific clarity, almost tangible across the short distance between them. He shakes his head. “Lyla, just take a break. A holiday break. None of this is your fault, and maybe some time away will help you see that.”

So after a few minutes of silent contemplation and shared mourning for Rene’s condition, she leaves with a written request for her to take a leave of absence, just for the holidays. She calls Dinah without hesitation. “Can you take over for me?” she asks after a long explanation. Her heart aches with each gruesome detail.

“Of course,” Dinah says. “I’d do anything for you. But is it wise to leave Rene?”

Lyla closes her eyes and fights back the tears - the same tears she’s been fighting since she arrived at the hospital after the ambulance. “Oliver thinks it is for the best, and honestly, there’s nothing I can do for him.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Dinah asks, calm but with a tinge of concern. It is just enough to keep Lyla away from her sorrow but enough for the entire situation to batter against her all over again.

“That might be the case, but it sure feels like it is my fault.”

After a small silence, Dinah clears her throat. “Well, I’ll keep you updated… if that’s okay?”

Lyla nods. “Please do. And thanks again.”

Lyla heads home and researches locations to escape to, hoping for the perfect distraction. After a few different keyword searches, she finds a home exchange site. She reads through the rules and regulations, terms and conditions, then decides to go for it. She steps outside and takes some photos of her Christmas light festooned home, then gets a few shots of each room within, equally decorated. She keeps the obvious vicinity of her home to the Queen estate a secret in the exterior photos.

Almost the moment she lists her home, she gets a message from someone named Felicity.

**Felicity: I noticed you just listed your lovely home for exchange. Is it available soon?**

**Lyla: How soon?**

**Felicity: Tomorrow?**

Lyla stares at the word, imagining what she might be doing tomorrow if she were to say no - if she still had a job to return to in the morning. She will be outside of Oliver’s office, eyeing each hopeful person who walks by, listening to her team as they give updates on the garage, William’s school and Oliver’s estate, through the comms. But that’s not an option for her. If anything, she’ll be holed up in her bedroom watching rom-com after rom-com with wine and chocolate staining her duvet. The thought makes her shudder and her response is typed quickly… almost automatic.

**Lyla: Tomorrow’s perfect!**

 

\---

 

Felicity’s cab pulls up to the quaint house just outside the city and she finally feels the chance to take a lengthy, much needed breath. She’s not exactly sure what she needs. She’s not sure if its quiet or seclusion. She’s not sure if she just needs a long bath and a good book or just a change of scenery. She hopes this little building - this stranger’s home - will give her exactly what she’s in need of. 

She pays the driver and then walks up to the door. She locates the security keypad above the doorbell and enters the code Lyla gave her the night before. A low beep sounds and then she hears the locks click clear. She wonders what sort of life this woman leads that she would need such a security measure, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

She enters the house to be greeted by a meowing black cat and numerous Christmas decorations scattered about in just the right places - almost magazine ready. A tree. Stockings above the fireplace. The cat weaves itself about her legs, purring in excitement over the new visitor. Felicity lets out a sigh and then frowns.

“Now what?”

 

\---

 

Lyla comes up to the house, wind jerking the cab this way and that. Both her and the driver let out gasps.

“I think you’ve hit the jackpot, miss,” the old female driver says with a wide grin.

“No kidding.”

Lyla gets out, pays the driver and then retrieves her baggage from the trunk. She rushes to the door in a desperate attempt escape the blisteringly cold desert wind. There’s a plain wreath on the door but nothing else to signal the holidays are celebrated in this gigantic, modern structure. She types in the outlandish code into the security keypad by the door and waits for the tell tale click of the locks sliding away. When she opens the door, silence hits her. An overwhelming silence. For a moment it threatens to knock her down - threatens to ruin the hopefulness she’s built this trip around - but she quickly steels herself.  _ You got this, Michaels. _

She explores the house, marveling at the tall windows in each room and the perfectly curated furnishings. Atop the fireplace in the living room she finds a menorah, old and tarnished with its age - the only things that doesn’t fit in the neatness of the home. She takes a seat on the nearest armchair and then looks out the windows at the vast Vegas valley.

“Now what?”


	2. Introductions & Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so blown away by how many of you enjoyed that prologue and are excited for this story! So here's the next chapter! Hope you like it just as much as the prologue!

* * *

 

Felicity is curled up in bed, the television on but ignored across the room. It is a cozy room, lovingly put together with comfort and relaxation in mind. Felicity frowns.  _ Maybe that’s my problem…  _ She thinks back to her home in Vegas, extensive and modern. It fits her lifestyle and her company’s forward-moving focus, but there has been something missing… lacking.  _ Maybe Ray is right about me. _

She reaches out and pets the cat that has taken up residency atop her knees. It purrs and shuts its eyes in contentment. “Why can’t I be as relaxed as you, buddy?” The cat’s eyes open to a bored squint, the slivers of green irises taunting. “So the key to relaxation is legitimately not caring at all, I guess.” The cat bows his head as if in confirmation.

Felicity continues her attempts at snuggling under the covers and drinking a bottle of wine for the next few hours until she comes up empty. A pout falls upon her lips and she eyes the sleeping feline sadly. “Sorry, buddy,” she murmurs as she slowly slides out from under the warm body and the festive duvet. The cat doesn’t even move, simply continues feigning sleep. Felicity goes down the stairs and straight to the wine rack. As she’s perusing, a violent knock sounds on the door. The locks are secure. Windows pulled tightly shut, locked, and curtains drawn. Felicity clutches a bottle to her chest and inches toward the front door. Another knock sounds, followed by a slurred voice. “Lyla!”

“Umm, hello?” she calls through the door.

“Lyla. Open the fucking door before someone sees me!”

Felicity takes one second to consider, then unlocks the door and inches it open, just enough for her to see the intruder on the other side.

Drowning in flickering Christmas lights, a tall cleanly dressed man is bracing himself against the wall, eyes closed and head bowed. His skin is a bit pale and clammy despite the chill in the air and she can smell liquor wafting on the breeze. “Who are you?”

The man looks up and his brows rise in confusion as he squints at her through his intoxication. “You’re not Lyla.”

She shakes her head. “No. I am not.”

“Where is she?”

Felicity chuckles and then opens the door wider. She gestures for him to enter the house and then a cascade of words spill forth from her own drunken lips. “She’s in Las Vegas. In my home. We exchanged homes for the next few weeks… a sort of spur-of-the-moment, holy-shit-I-can’t-be-home-for-the-holidays sort of vacation. So I’m here. Alone. And maybe a tiny bit drunk.”

“Well we have something in common,” the man says as he steps past her and into the living room. He plops down onto the couch and lets out a gigantic, long held in sigh mixed with a groan. “It isn’t like her to not tell anyone her plans,” he continues in a small voice, almost wounded.

“Well, as I mentioned, it was sort of spur-of-the-moment.” Felicity stays in the doorway to the living room and studies the man on Lyla’s couch. Her temporary couch.  _ Drunk and desperate to get in before someone sees him,  _ she thinks, running each detail over in her head.  _ Secret lover? _

“I am not her secret lover,” the man exclaims, clearly offended.

“Fuck. I said that out loud?”

“Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. I have basically zero brain to mouth filter.”

The man shakes his head. “No worries. I suppose it does look quite like that, doesn’t it?”

Felicity nods. “Just a bit.”

The man rubs at his eyes a bit and frowns, face scrunched in frustration. “I’m her boss. But also childhood friend. She’s basically like a sister to me and my actual sister.”

“She’s like a sister but also your employee… you do see that’s a tad odd, right?”

“Well, she basically employs herself… She’s head of my security team.”

“Why do you need a bodyguard? You look more than capable of handling bad guys on your own with all of…” Felicity trails off and points exaggeratedly at his broad shoulders. “ _ That.” _

The man chuckles. “That might be true,” he says smugly, “But the bad guys I have to deal with are just a bit more bad than most… and a lot more clever.” When Felicity doesn’t respond, he continues. “I’m the mayor of Star City. And while most of the citizens like me, my fellow politicians do not.”

“Oh.”

“It is just odd she didn’t warn me she was leaving.”

“Should she have?”

The man furrows his brow, then shakes his head. “I guess I kind of have her permission.”

Felicity chuckles. “So let me see if I have this down… Lyla is your head of security slash bestie whom you gave permission to go away on holiday but you forgot and her house is your drunken hideout from the press.”

He sways dangerously, then points at her a la Jack Sparrow. “You are absolutely correct.”

“The only thing I don’t know is your name, and if I’m gonna let you stay in what is, by all intents and purposes, my temporary home, I need to know what to call you. Drunken stranger and Star City Mayor are not sufficient.”

“Oliver Queen,” the man recites.

Felicity steps forward and extends her hand in official greeting. “Felicity Smoak.”

Oliver takes her offered hand and tugs her down onto the couch beside him. “So, Felicity Smoak… I know why Lyla might have wanted a change of scenery. But why did you come here?”

“Do you want the long story or the  _ too-long-didn’t-read  _ edition?”

Oliver grins and she glimpses a mole near a corner of his mouth. “Surprise me.”

“I’m overworked of my own volition. Unable to sustain a healthy relationship with an awesome guy - well, a guy I thought was awesome. After lots of arguments and offensive comments made at me, this awesome guy showed his true colors when he stole a very important prototype from my lab for his own gain and now we’re no longer together, obviously. So I decided I needed an escape. But so far I don’t feel any better and I’m actually considering just going back home.”

“Was that the long version or the short one?” Oliver asks.

Felicity tilts her head in consideration. “I’m actually not sure. Maybe the whole story was just medium length. Mediocre. Like my life.”

“Nothing about you seems mediocre, Felicity.”

“Not according to the previously mentioned guy of not-so-awesomeness,” she assures him. She realizes she’s still clutching the bottle or wine in one hand. “Would you like some?” she asks, holding the bottle up.

“Why not?”

She leaves the couch and moves to the kitchen, fetching two wine glasses and the corkscrew. She sets to work twisting it until the cork comes loose with a low  _ pop _ .

“You can’t be mediocre if this so-called awesome guy stole  _ your  _ prototype. That's not what someone does if they think someone is mediocre.”

She huffs out some embarrassed laughter as she pours the wine. “Okay, when it comes to my work, I’m sort of a genius. But the rest of me is mediocre.”

“Where in your life are you mediocre, exactly? According to this guy, I mean.” Oliver takes one of the glasses and sips the red wine slowly. Felicity can’t help but watch that mole at the corner of his mouth. It looks delicious beside the glass.

The she frowns as she contemplates the question. “It is incredibly embarrassing,” she finally murmurs, then sips her own wine, savoring the richness.

“I won’t tell anyone. In fact, it is likely I won’t remember this conversation in the morning.”

He looks completely serious beneath the overt intoxication. She sighs, takes a long swig of the wine, then closes her eyes. “He may have mentioned… just this once believed awesome guy, mind you… he might have mentioned that I am bad at… umm… sex.”

“Impossible,” Oliver proclaims almost immediately.

“He was quite serious.”

“So am I. That is impossible.”

Felicity laughs. “That’s what I said. I mean, sex is pretty basic and instinctual, isn’t it?”

“Pretty instinctual, yes.”

“I mean, how bad can someone be at something that is basically necessary to human population growth. Not that that’s why we were doing it. But it’s basic human interaction, to be honest. And really, maybe he’s the one that’s the real problem.”

“That’s likely.”

“I never complained but maybe I was being too nice. Maybe he was the one bad at sex.”

Oliver holds up his hands. “Wait, I thought we just established that sex is basic instinct and it would be therefore be impossible for anyone to be bad at sex.”

Felicity chugs the rest of her glass and refills it. “It made me feel better if he was a sexual anomaly.”

Oliver laughs. “Well, you’re not, for sure.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

Felicity watches Oliver as he sips his wine and that mole draws her attention once more.  _ Why is his mouth so… so… delicious?  _ That’s the only word that comes to mind as she watches him. She forces her eyes up to his to find them staring at her with an alcohol haze. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Oliver nods. “You can kiss me, if you want.”

The words hit her and her mouth drops. “What?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you.”

Oliver shrugs. “Kissing strangers can be pretty exciting.”

His words ring true somewhere within her wine-fueled brain and she launches herself at him until their mouths touch. His lips are warm against her own and flavored with the rich red wine, and his breath is even hotter as it mixes with hers. She’s quickly lost in the dance their mouths are doing, tongues twining first nervously, then aggressively. She lets her lips trail along the length of his mouth until she hits the mole tucked away at the corner. The mole that has taunted her throughout their entire introduction. She laves at it for a few moments and listens as a low growl escapes Oliver’s throat.

When they part, Oliver grins.

“What?” Felicity asks, a blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

“There’s absolutely no way you’re mediocre at sex.”

“Again… How do you know?”

Oliver laughs lightly, still breathless from the kiss. “A kiss like that does not come from someone who is bad at sex.”

“But there’s no way you can know for sure…” Felicity trails off as Oliver gives her a deadpan, listen-to-what-you’re-saying look. “This is gonna be ridiculous and you can totally say no and it would totally make sense if you did say no… I’d probably say no too if I were you. But-”

“Yes,” he interrupts. “I’ll have sex with you.”

 

\---

 

Lyla wakes up to the sound of a doorbell ringing. For a moment she thinks it’s an odd hallucination because it certainly isn’t the sound of  _ her  _ doorbell. Then she opens her eyes and she looks around. 

“I’m not in my home,” she groans, then leaves the bed and treks through the house down to the front door. She straightens her flannel pajamas and then opens the door without hesitation. On the front porch she finds a large, hulk of a man.

“You’re not Felicity,” the man says, head tilted to the side in surprised curiosity. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. And something else that Lyla can’t fully define.

“I am not.”

“Who are you?”

She extends her hand politely. “Lyla Michaels.”

“John Diggle. Felicity’s bodyguard.”

Lyla smiles.  _ A kindred spirit.  _ “I’m in security as well,” she says with pride.

John’s face darkens in clear worry. “Oh, really? And are you here for Felicity or…”

She holds up her hands in both defense and apology. “Oh, no! I’m not here to take your job! Felicity and I swapped houses for the holidays.”

John blinks, uncomprehending.

Lyla puts on a forced smile. “We found each other through a home exchange website and agreed to swap houses.”

“Like  _ Wife Swap _ ?”

The reference hits her and she can’t help but laugh. “Not exactly.”

John Diggle scrubs his face with his hands, a long annoyed sigh escaping through his fingers. “She  _ did not  _ tell me she was leaving.”

Lyla frowns. She knows that the man is feeling; she has experienced the same frustration with Oliver for years. With no sign of changing despite her repeated protestations and pleas. “I’ve been there,” she confides, lifting a hand to pat John’s massive bicep in sympathy. “Many times.”

“It just isn’t like her,” John laments, then shakes his head. “In any case, I apologize for unknowingly interrupting your vacation, but I’m gonna have to come in and retrieve Ray Palmer’s stuff.”

“Who?”

He grins. “Oh. Sorry. Felicity’s ex-boyfriend. They broke up…” He looks at the little date on his watch. “Two days ago.”

Lyla chuckles as she opens the door far enough for him to squeeze by. As she closes the door, she sees a tall and lanky man pacing back and forth just outside the driveway gate. “Is that the ex?”

“Yes, ma’am,” John calls over his shoulder from somewhere above. He’s already navigated up the stairs and is moving toward the office Lyla glimpsed the night before on her self-guided tour of her temporary home. She follows him and finds him with his back to the door, shoving piles of clothes into boxes. “He’s a total ass. Ray Palmer, I mean,” he elaborates as she enters the room.  _ Keen senses. I barely even made a sound.  _ “He stole some really important products from Felicity company and even after getting caught he shows zero remorse.”

“Wow. Now I understand why Felicity wanted to escape for a while.”

“I just wish she would have warned me.”

“Totally understandable. My boss is  _ always  _ pulling stuff like that. No on purpose. He literally just doesn’t think about it being an issue.”

John nods with a grunt of laughter as he turns to gather some other garments at the other end of the room. “Sounds familiar. Our bosses would get along well, I bet.”

Then Lyla stops everything. Stops moving. Stops talking. Stops thinking about anything other than one thing. “ _ Shit _ .”

John pauses in his packing, brows raised in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t tell my boss I was leaving.”

“Is that a problem?”

Lyla nods, eyes closed and teeth clutching at her bottom lip in nervousness. “He often gets wasted and crashes at my house to avoid the inevitable fallback that would result in him going back to his house.”

“Why would there be fallback?”

“Well, he’s the mayor, for one. And he also doesn’t wanna stumble in and wake his son.”

John nods. “Well, looks like Felicity might get a little more than she bargained for at your house.” He closes the box and hefts it into his arms. “A little like you did today,” he says with a wink.

She walks him to the door, opens it for him and then he turns on the porch to look at her one last time. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lyla.”

“Same to you, John.”

For a moment he just stares at her and she begins to feel slightly uncomfortable. “I hope to see you again soon.”

A level of abandon overwhelms her and Lyla can’t stop herself from blurting out, “Dinner? Tonight?”

As he turns back around, John Diggle calls over his shoulder, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

 

\---

 

Felicity stands at the coffee machine, waiting for the water to heat and trickle down into the pot. She needs all of the caffeine Lyla’s home can offer. “I had sex with a stranger,” she murmurs as she opens the cabinet above the brewing coffee to find a mug. She picks a bright pink one with a little striped cat on it, featuring the name of a local shelter. “A handsome stranger.” She shakes her head.  _ A smoking hot stranger,  _ her mind corrects. 

She had left Oliver Queen in the bed, naked and glorious to behold, even in slumber. The ridges of his abs and the chiseled curve of his hips as they flowed toward…  _ Stop it! You just had a one night stand! _

“Good morning,” Oliver’s voice sounds from the doorway.

She turns quickly and smiles. She knows it has to be awkward and she knows, without a doubt, he’s likely regretting the whole night…  _ If he remembers any of it. _

“Oh, I remember all of it,” he says with a knowing raise of one brow.

“I said that out loud!?”

He nods. “You seem to do that a lot, and it is actually probably one of the cutest things I’ve ever witnessed.”

She takes off her glasses and covers her face in her hands. “It is so  _ not  _ cute. It is embarrassing and so incredibly mortifying.”

“But it is honest,” Oliver says, suddenly so much closer to her than she expected. She feels his hands glide over her sweater-covered arms comfortingly. “I appreciate honesty.”

She lets her hands fall from her face and she looks up. Oliver is smiling down at her, that mole taunting her again. This time the taunting means something so much different. It has the weight of knowledge behind it. She knows how it feels, how it tastes… She knows his body. She knows his hands and how they feel against her skin. “You’re just being nice because we had sex last night.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Umm, no. I’m being nice because it is the absolute truth.”

He steps away and reaches for the coffee pot. He pours coffee into her mug and gets one for himself. They add their own preferences of sugar and creamer, then silently sip the hot liquid. On the counter a cell phone begins to vibrate as a call goes through. Felicity instinctively picks up and looks at the screen. The caller I.D. says  _ Raisa _ . “Oops,” she says, handing the phone to Oliver. “No mine.”

Oliver looks down at the phone and then declines the call. “I’ll call her back.”

They continue to drink in silence, stealing occasional glances at one another. Felicity keeps her mind as quiet and calm as possible, refusing to allow anything to slip through her nonexistent brain to mouth filter.

Finally Oliver places his mug into the sink, runs some water into it and then sighs. “I definitely need to get going.” He makes his way out of the kitchen, then turns in the doorway once more. “For the record, that guy was one hundred percent wrong about you. You’re great at sex.”

Felicity holds her coffee mug up to her mouth in an attempt to hide her smile and the blush flooding up her face. “Thanks,” she murmurs.

“And I’m sure you’re gonna end up leaving now out of pure boredom and I may never see you again, but if you change your mind and decide to stay… well, I’ll be at a bar called  _ Tommy’s Place  _ tonight at eight, if you wanna join me.” He waits for a few more moments, then holds up his hands. “No pressure at all. Just in case.”

And then he’s gone and Felicity is left with a fluttering heart and a cat meowing its demands for attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Please leave a comment!
> 
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**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?
> 
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